


The Future Was Just The Start

by Nekomata58919



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: And angsty, Eventual Romance, M/M, Time Travel, it's gonna be super fluffy, mentioned past Jim Gordon/Barbara Kean, mentioned past Jim Gordon/Leslie Thompkins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:05:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8136628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekomata58919/pseuds/Nekomata58919
Summary: The future is nothing like Oswald could have imagined - it's a lot weirder.





	1. Time Flies

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank thekeyholder for being awesome and being the beta for my story! Thank you!!! :D

Time Flies

                Cold and hard were the first sensations Oswald became aware of when he awoke. Rolling onto his back with a confused groan, he opened his eyes and looked up at the cracked ceiling spotted with splotches of water damage. Oswald slowly got to his feet, fighting back a wave of dizziness, and took in his surroundings.

                He was standing in a large, mostly bare room that looked like it was part of either an abandoned apartment or office. Turning around, Oswald saw a machine covered in gears, levers, and clocks that took up most of the space in the room. Attached to the odd machine were two clear cylindrical containers – one of which had an open door.

                “What in the world…” Oswald was sure he had fallen asleep in his office – he didn’t remember going to bed and he had been very tired – while going through paperwork last night. Or a few hours earlier as the case may be. The pale light filtering through dusty windows indicated it was still late night. No-one other than Barbara and Butch knew where he lived, so how could someone have kidnapped him? Who would even _want_ to kidnap him?

                Oswald limped over to one of the windows and peered out through the grime. There was a fire escape, but it didn’t seem accessible from this window. If he could get out onto that he could get home, or at least somewhere safer than here. Oswald made his way into the next room – which was equally empty, save for some scattered bits of junk – and over to the windows. He tested one and found it was locked. As were the others.

                Oswald searched around the rooms until he found a loose pipe. As he smashed one of the windows he hoped his kidnapper was not somewhere nearby. So far he’d been lucky. Oswald cleared the glass out of his way and climbed out onto the fire escape.

                His leg was giving him more trouble than it had in some time and so it took a while for Oswald to get down the stairs and away from the building - even with the use of the pipe. Based on the state of disrepair of the surrounding buildings, Oswald surmised he was somewhere in the East End. Oswald pulled his phone from his pocket, and looked over his contacts as he walked. Stopping on Butch’s name he dialed the number and held it to his ear.

                “ _We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If -”_

                Oswald hung up and scrolled down to Gabe’s number. He received the same recording.  Growling in frustration, he put his phone away and tried to figure out where exactly in the East End he was. He turned down an alleyway, deciding that if anyone had followed him he might be able to lose them in the maze of alleys.

                A hand clapped over Oswald’s mouth, and he was yanked back against a broad chest. “Give me yer wallet, little man.”

                Oswald frowned and whipped his head back, head-butting his assailant. The mugger let go with a curse and Oswald turned, swinging the pipe down against the man’s leg. He beat the mugger until the man was a bloody, unconscious heap on the ground. Rolling his eyes, Oswald turned and continued on his way. “Amateur.”

 

                Oswald had to ditch the pipe when he finally came to a main street. He still wasn’t sure exactly where he was as he waded through the crowds of people. It was definitely Gotham. Some buildings looked familiar; however, others looked completely different. So many more lights than usual shone brightly, illuminating a blimp that floated slowly above the rooftops.

                The sound of distant screams preceded the sight of a huge clown-faced balloon floating around a corner. After a moment, Oswald noticed green gas pouring from the bottom. He didn’t need to know the specifics to know that that was _not_ something he wanted to get caught inhaling.

                Oswald turned in the opposite direction, and began limping away as fast as he could. Disturbing laughter echoed over the screams, apparently coming from speakers attached to the slowly approaching balloon.

                People pushed him around as they rushed past in a panic. His foot was stepped on multiple times, and he was nearly shoved to the ground. Oswald pushed back, trying to escape from the sidewalk without success. The laughter grew louder and louder. He glanced back briefly to see the haze of green wafting closer.

                Oswald was jostled along, and when he finally managed to get out of the crazed stampede of people, he noticed he could no longer see the balloon. Deciding not to take any chances, he hailed a cab and gave him the directions to his club. It might not be exactly where he wanted to go, but he was more likely to get his bearings there without having to worry about a giant balloon full of gas. Besides, the chances of him finding Butch there were greater than the manor.

                “Sure thing,” the cabby agreed as Oswald got in and shut the door. As the cab took off, Oswald looked out the window. His brows furrowed in confusion when he spotted a beam of light shining in the sky. There was an odd cut out in the center of the light that looked like a bat. “Hopefully Batman will deal with this faster than last time.”

                “What?” Oswald turned to look at his cab driver.

                “I said I hope Batman deals with Joker faster this time,” the cab driver repeated.

                Oswald frowned. Batman? Joker? The cabby was talking nonsense, clearly. “Right…” He went back to gazing out the window, keeping an eye out for more balloons.

                The cab eventually came to a stop. Oswald paid his fair and got out. Yet again, he found himself frowning as he looked up at the name on his club. “Iceberg Lounge? What the hell is going on?” Oswald turned to tell the cab driver he had gone to the wrong club, but the cab was already gone; glancing at the street names told him that he was at the right place, though, despite the name on his club being incorrect.

                Sighing resignedly, Oswald entered the Iceberg Lounge. The inside looked much as he remembered it, however, there were quite a few more penguin and umbrella decorations than before. And that huge iceberg on the back of the stage was new.

                “Boss!”

                Oswald barely stopped himself from jumping, and looked over to the bar where the voice had come from. He limped over and the bartender – whom he didn’t recognize – moved to the side so he could speak with Oswald without anyone listening in. It appeared he did still own the building, at least. “Yes?”

                The bartender looked momentarily confused before answering. “Catwoman is waiting in your office, sir. I told her you were out, but she insisted on waiting for you. Didn’t say what she wanted.”

                Oswald scowled. Catwoman? Maybe he had bumped his head and this was a very weird dream. Or Dr. Strange had abducted him again. There were no other explanations for the insanity he was experiencing. He weaved through the patrons of his club – or lounge? – and slipped down a hallway. Oswald opened the wooden door to his office and his jaw dropped.

                Reclining lazily atop his mahogany desk was a woman dressed in a black leather cat-suit complete with a cat-eared cowl, goggles, leather boots, and clawed gloves. Was that a whip curled at her waist? She appeared to have been looking at a jeweled bird statuette but was now staring at him – red lips dropped open into an ‘oh’ of surprise.

                “Penguin?” the woman asked, sitting up.

                Regaining his composure, Oswald puffed up his chest and his brows furrowed sternly. “Who are you and what are you doing in my office?” he demanded.  

                “I’d ask if you were joking but considering you look like you just lost about ten years of age…You are Oswald, right?” the woman replied.

                “Of course I am. And what _are_ you talking about?” Oswald growled.

                “Something fishy is going on then…” the woman muttered. She hopped off his desk and sauntered up to him. Her lips pursed in thought as she looked over Oswald, who was growing increasingly annoyed. “You really don’t recognize me?”

                “Should I?”

                The woman rolled her eyes and removed her cowl, revealing a mess of curly light-brown hair and an arched eyebrow. “How about now?”

                Oswald gaped. “Selina?” Despite the clear age difference and makeup, the woman in front of him was definitely Selina Kyle.

                Selina smirked. “Yep. That’s me alright,” she replied, setting her cowl down on Oswald’s desk before resting her hip against the edge.

                “But how is that possible?” Oswald asked, eyes wide. “You…You were, what, fifteen or sixteen last I saw you?”

                Selina frowned. “I’m twenty-eight. And when I saw you last week, well, you were…rounder. And older.”

                Ignoring the impulse to be offended, Oswald asked, “So are you saying I’ve time traveled somehow?”

                “I honestly wouldn’t be surprised,” Selina said with a shrug. Her eyes flicked away and she pouted. “How purrfectly annoying.”

                “But that’s impossible.” Oswald sat in his chair, a haunted look in his eyes. How could he have traveled through time? As much as he wanted to believe it was impossible, he had though the same of the dead coming back to life. If this was true, what if he never returned to his time and was stuck here? What happened to his future self? What was he supposed to do now?

                “Since when has the impossible not become possible in Gotham?” Selina retorted. “I’d say it’s either time travel, or someone reverted you back to your younger self. Either way, sucks for you.”

                Oswald looked up at Selina, eye twitching ever so slightly. “Thank you. That’s very helpful,” he replied sarcastically.  “Though time travel would explain that odd machine covered in clocks…”

                Selina smirked. “My pleasure.” After a moment her smile faded and she looked serious. “Whatever is going on, I suppose I ought to give you a warning. If you did travel through time, it would be bad if you died.”

                “Such as?”

                Selina sat on his desk again, bringing a boot up and resting her wrist on her knee. “Well, for one thing, you should try and avoid Batman – unless you fancy being thrown into Blackgate again. Or for the first time? Whatever.”

                “There’s that name again! Who is Batman?” Oswald inquired, throwing up his hands.

                “That _is_ the question, isn’t it? To put it simply, Batman is a vigilante. A crime fighter who flies through the night dressed like a bat,” Selina explained dramatically. “It would also probably be good to avoid Joker. He’s an evil clown, basically. He’s the one causing trouble tonight it seems.”

                Oswald steepled his fingers together. A man dressed like a bat, an evil clown, and a cat woman. Was this really the future he had to look forward to? Grimacing, Oswald leaned back into his comfortably cushioned chair. “Anything else I should know while you’re so kindly giving out information?”

                Selina tapped her chin with a claw. “Hmm…Nothing I can think of that might not drastically change things. I don’t want to be responsible for the end of the world, after all.”

                “Understandable,” Oswald agreed with a nod of his head.

                Selina stood and pulled her cowl back on. “I should get going. And just so you know, because I like you, Penguin, I’ll keep an eye on you. I won’t go out of my way or anything, but if you run into trouble I’ll try to help.”

                Oswald smiled a little. “That is appreciated. Thank you, Selina.”

                “It’s Catwoman now,” Selina corrected. She opened the window behind Oswald and leapt out into the night.

 

* * *

 

                Oswald stepped into the Van Dahl manor. The entryway surprisingly looked the same: checkered marble floors, intricate wood paneling, ornate gold detailing, and very dismal lighting. Oswald limped slowly down the hall, taking in everything and listening for anyone else. If he had indeed traveled through time, who knew what had changed in his home.

                Oswald let out a startled yelp as black feathers obscured his vision and sharp pinpricks of pain shot through his arm which he had raised in defense. He lowered it cautiously and was shocked to see a crow sitting on his arm. Oswald blinked. The crow tilted its head to one side before shifting to clean the feathers of its wing. After a moment, the crow took off.

                Unsure of how to respond to what just happened, Oswald glanced at his arm before continuing through the manor. Throughout the manor, he spotted more birds – most of them in cages or other enclosures. There were common birds such as cockatoos, parrots, parakeets, and love birds - but there were also birds one didn’t usually keep as pets. A vulture, an ibis, hawks, and there were numerous penguins in the basement which had been decorated to reflect the arctic.

                “I’ve gone mad,” Oswald muttered to himself. How had his future self acquired so many birds? And why? True, Oswald loved birds, but this was a tad excessive. Then again, maybe they were good company.

                The future was baffling so far. He still ran his club, but what of his criminal empire? He had seen Selina, but he hadn’t heard anything about Jim, Dr. Strange, Fish, or Edward. If he was lucky Fish and Dr. Strange were both dead – permanently. And how was he supposed to contact anyone if he didn’t have the right numbers? Did he even still have contact with Jim and Ed? Were they still alive?  

                As he made his way to his bedroom, Oswald decided that if this wasn’t all some very odd dream that he would make more of an effort to figure it all out in the morning. Knowing himself, he was sure to have updated information on anyone he deemed important hidden somewhere. Likely in his office here at home.

                Oswald was happy to see his room was free of birds at least, and all his pillows were still there on the bed. He changed and settled into the soft bed. Oswald hoped that when he woke up next time he wouldn’t be in an even worse place.


	2. Riddle Me This

         Oswald hummed sleepily as he slowly woke up. He yawned and stretched and opened his eyes. It took a moment, but last night’s adventures quickly returned to him and Oswald sat up.

         He was in his room - that much was clear. Calming himself, Oswald stood and limped over to his closet. Based on the size of the clothing inside, he knew he was still in the future. As much as he had hoped he was back in his own time, Oswald was relieved he hadn’t been sent anywhere – or any time – else. Oswald searched through his clothes, trying to find any that might fit. At the far back, he found a few suits he recognized. Apparently, his future self hoped to one day fit back into them.

         Oswald was in no hurry to rush into a world he knew nothing about, and so took his time getting ready and cooking breakfast. Popping a bit of toast into his mouth, he meandered to his office and looked around.

         Other than the caged lovebirds in the corner, his office was much the same as it was in his time: a large walnut desk, a computer, lots of bookshelves, and a leather wing-back chair by the windows. Oswald set his plate on the desk, and began rifling through the drawers. One was locked.

         Frowning, Oswald began searching the office. It took some minutes, but as he was looking through the books on a bookshelf, he spotted one that seemed a bit out of place. Luckily, his hiding habits hadn’t changed much over the years. Oswald opened the book and found a secret compartment at the back which held a little key. Clearly, whatever was in the drawer was important. Opening the drawer he found several files, each labeled with a name – sometimes two.

         He sat and pulled out a file at random. “Edward Nygma/The Riddler. Huh,” he muttered, opening the file. Oswald nearly spit out his coffee. Inside were pictures of Ed in the most ridiculous outfit he had ever seen. Ed was dressed in a lime green suit covered in black questions marks, a matching lime green bowler hat, and a purple tie also decorated with question marks. In a few of the pictures, Ed was carrying what looked like a question mark shaped staff or cane.

         Laughing quietly, Oswald removed the pictures to look at the papers inside. Within the file, he found information on Ed’s frequent hang outs, his phone number, a few letters, and what looked like a record of whether or not Ed was currently in Arkham Asylum. The last entry indicated that Ed had recently escaped.

         Oswald returned the pictures to the file, and tucked it back in its proper place. He pulled out another file, this one labeled as ‘Selina Kyle/Catwoman’. Again, the file contained pictures and lists. A third file was labeled simply as ‘The Joker’. He recalled his cab driver and Selina mentioning a Joker. Curious, he opened the file.

         A white face grinned up at him. Green hair and a red mouth stretched impossibly wide, the man could only be described as clown-like. A demented clown at that. Taking a closer look, the man looked oddly familiar. Disturbed, Oswald quickly removed the pictures. He had little personal information on The Joker. He had merely written down the areas Joker frequented, an arsenal list, and the fact that he had recently escaped Arkham as well.

         Oswald quickly put the file away and looked for another one. Hopefully, some of the others would be less creepy. He skimmed through the files of Killer Croc, Mr. Freeze, Scarecrow, Poison Ivy, Bane, Victor Zsasz, Egghead, King Tut, Professor Milo, and Solomon Grundy. He sat back for a moment, wondering what in the hell had happened to Gotham. There were strangely named criminals running around; and now he could no-longer claim Ed’s costume to be the most ridiculous outfit he’d even seen.

         Shaking his head, he looked back to the drawer. Two files in particular caught Oswald’s attention. One was labeled Batman and the other Jim Gordon. He picked up the folder labeled Batman first. Inside were pictures of a man dressed in a black bat suit. Oswald pressed his fingers to his temple and took a breath. He was surrounded by insane people.

         Pushing aside the pictures (which he noticed were only clippings from newspapers), Oswald looked through the many papers he had stuffed inside the file. “’Batman’s real identity is unknown, though I have a few guesses as to who he might be’,” Oswald read. Unfortunately, that entry must have been written recently as it didn’t continue after that. Frustrated, he skimmed through the rest of the papers. They detailed the list of bat-themed weapons Batman used, as well as the defenses of the Batmobile. There were more pictures hidden farther in, these ones Oswald had drawn crudely on. Oswald snickered, and put the file away so he could look through Jim’s.

         He knew this file a little. He’d started it about a year ago. A year ago in his time, anyway. The main difference of this file was that there weren’t any pictures. Well, any new pictures. There were a few from when he’d started the file. Oswald supposed he must see Jim often enough to not need any new ones.

         Oswald pulled out the papers. His brows shot up when he caught sight of the first paper. “Commissioner Gordon? Well, Jim, it seems you’ve done well over the years,” he murmured. Oswald’s eyes skimmed the papers, finding his address and phone number, before coming to a halt. “’Daughter: Barbara Gordon.’” He set the file down, and stared straight ahead. Jim had a daughter.

         He took a moment to clear his emotions before looking back down at the file. “’Relationship status: Single’,” he read. Oswald sighed and put the file away. He was about to shut the drawer when he noticed a slim file at the back labeled ‘Friends/Foes’.

         Oswald grabbed it, and flipped it open. Inside was a long, multiple page list containing the names of all those he had files on. Beside each name was either the word ‘friend’ or ‘foe’. However, some seemed to switch back and forth and appeared to be updated weekly. Of the names he recognized, Catwoman seemed to be his friend and foe equally, Ed was more often his enemy but was currently listed as a friend, Batman was always his foe, and Jim – surprisingly – was always listed as a friend. Though he could see where he had occasionally written foe but then crossed it out.

         Oswald cleaned everything up and locked the drawer. He didn’t want to look too closely through any of the files for fear of potentially changing the future for the worse. He had updated his phone with the necessary numbers and that was it.

         Oswald stood and was about to leave when he spotted an umbrella holder he hadn’t paid much attention to at first. What stood out about it now was the sheer number of umbrellas it held. Oswald had a fair amount now, but this was almost ridiculous.

         Curious, Oswald pulled one out and examined it. It was a beautiful umbrella with a very nice wood handle. He opened it to get a better look. While he was inspecting it, he spotted a button near the top. Oswald pressed it and a shot rang out, causing him to drop the umbrella in shock.

         He found the bullet lodged in the wall across from him and glanced back at the umbrella. It was an umbrella that functioned like a gun. Oswald grinned and put that umbrella away. He took out a new one, pointed it away from himself, and pressed the button on that one. A knife popped out of the end. “Amazing! What a fantastic idea…”

         As Oswald tested out his high-tech umbrellas, he debated about who he should contact first. Based on his files, only Ed and Jim were likely to be of any help.

 

* * *

 

         “I certainly wasn’t expecting a visit from you today, Mr. Peng…uin?” Ed stared down at Oswald in confusion.

         Oswald was glad to see Ed was dressed normally. “I’m sure. However, as you can see, something has come up,” he replied, leaning against his new umbrella. Ed blinked before stepping aside and gesturing for Oswald to come into his cluttered apartment. It seemed bigger than the one Ed had owned in his time.

         After some deliberation, Oswald had chosen to contact Ed first. While it had failed spectacularly after his release from Arkham, he wanted to believe that Ed might help him this time. Besides, he was older now, it was possible Ed was more mature now. The fact that Ed hadn’t slammed the door in his face was promising, anyway.

         “I didn’t realize you were into those anti-aging creams,” Ed remarked, raising an eyebrow. “Or that they even worked.”

         “Very funny,” Oswald deadpanned. “I wish it were that simple. As crazy as it sounds, it appears that I’ve traveled through time.”

         Ed laughed. “Good one! I almost thought you were serious.”

         Oswald glared up at him. “I’m being entirely serious, I assure you.”

         “Oh? Then tell me, what time are you from?” Ed asked with a smirk.

         “Twelve years ago, according to Ms. Kyle. I was running for Mayor and you were still in Arkham last I knew. I had fallen asleep at my desk while working on my campaign plans,” Oswald said and crossed his arms. “But last night I woke up here in this time.”

         “Are you sure you weren’t just de-aged by someone or something?” Ed asked.

         “I wouldn’t know, but I’m fairly certain,” Oswald replied.

         Ed stared at him for a moment. “Well, that’s terrible for you. But why did you come to me? I don’t know anything about time travel.”

         Oswald sighed and let his hands drop back to his sides. “I was hoping you might know who could do something like this. I doubt anyone in my time could do it, so it would have to be someone here.”

         “Well, I have to get ready for…business. I am a busy man after all,” Ed said, heading down a hall. He called back over his shoulder, “I’ll think it over while I change.”

         Oswald frowned and limped over to a chair. Ed hadn’t thrown him out yet, but he didn’t seem all that concerned for what was happening. Then again, maybe strange occurrences like this were normal now. Still, it was annoying.

         What if neither Ed nor Jim helped him? What if he never made it back to his own time? Oswald knew he was smart enough to stay alive, but sooner or later an enemy would realize something was up. His lack of knowledge of this time could be used against him and he’d be none the wiser.

         “Riddle me this!” Ed strode into the room dressed in that ludicrous lime green suit, twirling a question mark cane. “I have a face without eyes, nose, or mouth and my fingerless hands twice a day both point south. What am I?”

         Oswald restrained a laugh. “You know I don’t like riddles, Ed,” he said eventually.

         “If you don’t answer my riddle, then I won’t tell you who I think is behind this,” Ed replied with a shrug. “It’s easy, even you can figure it out.”

         Oswald nearly shot him with his umbrella for that remark. “Fine,” he groused. After a few moments thought, he had it. “A clock?”

         Ed grinned. “Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!”

         “Wonderful, now will you tell me what that has to do with anything?” Oswald demanded, standing.

         “The only person I can think of who might do something like this is a man known as The Clock King,” Ed explained. “Not that he’s done anything like this before. However, considering his obsession with time, I’d say it’s a fair assumption.”

         “The Clock King?” Oswald repeated, brows furrowed. He didn’t see a file about him in his desk. However it would explain the machine covered in clocks.

         “A lesser known criminal. He’s mostly just a nuisance. I really don’t know much about him other than that and I don’t have time to care,” Ed replied. He gave a little laugh at his unintentional pun. “Now, I have to go and so do you.”

         Oswald was shoed from the apartment. Ed locked the door behind them, tipped his bowler, and hurried off down the hall in the opposite direction of the elevator. “Now what?” Oswald huffed. Once again, Ed had kicked him out and was barely any help. Oswald resolved to never go to Ed for important help again.

         He left the apartment building, his cell phone pressed to his ear as he waited for Butch to answer.

         “Hello?”

         “Butch, what took you so long?” Oswald snapped.

         “Penguin? I didn’t recognize the number, sorry,” Butch replied.

Oswald’s lips thinned. He should have realized that his phone number wouldn’t be recognized. “I need to know something, and _you_ need to not ask questions,” Oswald said.

         “Uh, okay,” Butch agreed.

         “Did I have any important plans for today, or this week?” Oswald asked.

         “No, I don’t think so. I mean, you were considering a heist. I think you were gonna meet with Catwoman to discuss it first before committing to it.”

         “I see,” Oswald muttered. So that’s why Selina had been waiting for him at the Iceberg Lounge. “Thank you, Butch. I’m sure I’ll be calling you again soon.”

         “Right. Sure.” Butch hung up.

         Oswald pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and stared down at the address. Maybe Jim would help him. He had listed him as a friend, so it was possible. He couldn’t be any more useless than Ed, anyway. Being that Jim was now Commissioner, he was more likely to have crossed paths with The Clock King at some point.

         The only issue right now was that it was early and Jim was probably still at work. There was no way he was visiting the GCPD, so he would just have to wait until later. Oswald folded the paper and put it back in his pocket. He really hoped Jim would be willing to help him. Oswald didn’t have any other options.


	3. Commissioner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's commented or left kudos so far. I'm very happy that people are enjoying this story. :D

                Oswald gazed up at the barely visible stars as he stood in the dark on the sidewalk. He could make out Ursa Minor in the innocently twinkling dots high above. Oswald pulled his eyes away from the sky and stared ahead at Jim’s home. He’d stalled long enough, he supposed.

                359 Murphy Avenue was a simple brick house on a quiet street. The lights shone through the blinds onto the front stoop. From where Oswald stood, he could make out the beginning of a small backyard enclosed by a chain-link fence. He was a little surprised; he would have thought a Commissioner could afford a much nicer place. Then again, it _was_ Jim’s home and he supposed it could have been a lot worse.

                Oswald climbed the few stone steps to the green front door and gave a light knock. When he didn’t get a response, he knocked a little louder. The sounds of movement came from inside and a second later the door opened.

                “Yes?” Jim greeted flatly. He blinked. Oswald stared up at Jim as Jim stared back, both with matching looks of surprise. “Oswald?”

                Of all the things that Oswald could have focused on, it was the mustache that surprised him most. He had never thought he’d ever see Jim Gordon with a mustache. It hadn’t even crossed his mind once as he’d only ever seen the man clean-shaven. Oswald managed to avert his eyes from Jim’s mustache and took in the rest of him.

                Jim looked mostly the same. Still clearly in good shape and capable of beating the crap out of criminals. However, there were the beginnings of crowsfeet crinkling the corners of his eyes, and his hair had a few streaks of gray at the temples. Even after twelve years, Jim was very handsome.

                Oswald quickly gathered his wits and gave a breezy smile. “Hello, old friend.”

                Jim looked around and then back at Oswald. After some brief hesitation, he stepped back. “Come inside,” he told Oswald, tone unreadable.

                Oswald stepped inside, a soft clack telling him that Jim closed the door. They were standing in what was clearly the living room. It looked lived in, but not especially cluttered. A brown leather sofa took up most of the space, though there was enough room for a recliner, coffee table, a television plus its stand, and a potted plant in the corner.

                “What did you do now?” Jim asked, moving to stand in front of Oswald with his hands on his hips.

                Oswald frowned, affronted. “What exactly are you trying to accuse me of?”

                “You look younger. By about ten or so years. And a lot…well…” Jim trailed off awkwardly. “Either you did something to yourself, or you pissed someone off and they did…whatever this is,” Jim said as he crossed his arms.

                “I have done nothing, Jim. I don’t appreciate your assumptions,” Oswald huffed, lifting his chin haughtily. “And to think I was hoping you’d help me.”

                Jim sighed and dropped his arms to his sides. “Sorry. Then tell me what happened.”

                Oswald shifted. He hadn’t expected an apology, though it was certainly welcome. “May I sit while I recount my story?” he asked, eyeing the couch and chair.

                “Yeah, go ahead,” Jim allowed, moving to sit in the chair.

                “Thank you.” Oswald sat primly on the edge of the couch. “This will all sound far-fetched, but I promise it’s all true. Yesterday I had just given my first speech in my run for Mayor. I stayed up late working on my campaign, and further speeches, and ended up falling asleep at my desk at home.”

                “What?” Jim frowned in confusion.

                Oswald ignored the interruption. “When I woke up, I was in a strange room with an odd machine covered in clocks and gears. Luckily, no-one was around and I managed to escape.

                As I was trying to figure out what had happened, I nearly ran into a gas some balloon was spewing out. I must admit, I was quite shocked by the sight of a clown balloon floating down the streets of Gotham.

                Anyway, I got away unscathed and eventually made it to my club – which I was shocked to find is now called The Iceberg Lounge. Inside, I met Selina Kyle, who was older than when I’d last seen her,” he explained. “She seems to think time travel has something to do with this ordeal.”

                Jim stared at Oswald for a minute. “Time travel…Selina thinks that?”

                “Yes,” Oswald confirmed. “I met with Ed – or is it only Riddler now? – and he thinks someone called The Clock King is likely responsible.”

                “You told Ed?” Jim looked a little surprised. “That seems like a bad idea.”

                “Yes, well, I didn’t have much of a choice. There aren’t too many people I can trust, even a little bit,” Oswald said.

                “I get it,” Jim replied.

                “Do you?”

                 “....So…you’re saying you’re from…when exactly?” Jim asked eventually, rubbing the back of his neck.

                “Twelve years ago,” Oswald replied. He gave a quiet sigh. Hopefully, Jim would believe him – he was the last person he could go to for help. If Jim rebuffed him, Oswald would have to figure this all out on his own. Considering how little he knew of this time, his chances of success were very low.

                Jim rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. “I don’t know how much help I can be. Last I’d heard, The Clock King was in Blackgate,” he said.

                Oswald pursed his lips. “So. You aren’t going to help me then?” he asked waspishly.

                Jim held up his hands. “I didn’t say that.” He stood and paced for a moment. “I just…need a minute. This isn’t exactly an issue I’ve dealt with before.”

                Oswald relaxed. “You don’t have to come up with a solution this instant, Jim. I only wanted to know if you _would_ help me,” he said, lacing his fingers together and resting them on his knee.

                “I can’t exactly _not_ help you. If you get killed here in this time it could cause a serious disaster,” Jim replied. He stroked over his moustache in thought. “And that’s not even accounting for where the Oswald from this time is. Or when, I should say.”

                Oswald frowned at the floor. “This is all incredibly frustrating.”

                 Jim was quiet. He left the room and returned with two bottles of beer - handing one to Oswald before sitting. “I guess everything here is weird for you, huh?”

                Oswald eyed the beer before taking a polite sip. “Yes, it is. There are so many people dressed in strange costumes now. I don’t even know what to make of the state of the city. And you have a daughter?”

                Jim frowned. “How did you know I have a daughter if you’re from the past?”

                Oswald shifted slightly and took another sip of the beer. “I have many sources of information, Jim. No matter what time I’m in.”

                “Right,” Jim grunted. “Yeah, I have a daughter. She’s staying with her mom tonight, though…Her name’s Barbara. But I’m guessing you know that, too.”

                “I see,” Oswald replied. “I’m glad I wasn’t interrupting anything, then.”

                “I wouldn’t have let you in if you had been.”

                They sat in awkward silence for a bit. Oswald set the beer down on the coffee table and stood, figuring he ought to leave.

                “I might not be able to help much, but I know someone who could,” Jim said.

                Oswald arched an eyebrow. “And who would that be?” he inquired.

                “Batman. He has more resources at his disposal than I do,” Jim replied. “If anyone can find The Clock King, it would be him.”

                Oswald huffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m sure Batman would love to help me. Aren’t we enemies?”

                Jim stood and collected both bottles. “Yes, you are. But, you have helped each other a little before. Besides, it’s for the greater good, so I’m ninety percent sure he’d help,” he explained as he walked into the kitchen. When Jim returned from disposing of the bottles he continued, “The only problem is contacting him. He’s been trying to catch The Joker, so I think we should wait until that crisis is averted.”

                Oswald nodded. “From what little I’ve learned about that mad man, I’d agree that that’s probably best. I’m not in any immediate danger, so I can be patient.”

                “Okay.” Jim gave a single nod in return. “In the meantime, I’ll see what I can figure out myself.”

                Oswald smiled. “That would be greatly appreciated, Jim.”

                Jim walked Oswald to the door, much to Oswald’s surprise. “I suggest you lay low until we can solve this problem,” he said.

                “I was planning on it,” Oswald replied, just barely refraining from rolling his eyes. He was about to leave when he remembered that Jim didn’t have his phone number. “Oh, Jim, I forgot to give you my number. It would certainly be difficult to contact me without it.”

                Jim’s brows furrowed. “I have it already.”

                Oswald shook his head and held out his phone. “Not the number from my time,” he said. “You have my future self’s phone number?”

                Grimacing, Jim took Oswald’s phone and added the number to his own. “It’s a long story.”

                Oswald smirked. “One I’d like to hear some time. I’m sure it’s a very interesting story.”

                Jim gave a non-committal grunt and handed Oswald his phone back. “Be careful.”

                “I will. Thank you for the concern,” Oswald replied with a grin as he stepped into the night. He looked back over his shoulder. “Goodbye, Jim. I hope to see you again soon.”

                “Right,” Jim muttered before shutting the door.

 

                As Oswald sat in the cab that was taking him home, his mind raced with thoughts about his meeting with Jim. After his initial shock at seeing an older Jim, he had felt oddly relieved. Oswald frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. Seeing Jim should have pissed him off. Now that he was no longer in the other man’s presence, he _was_ pissed.

                Despite the fact that Jim leaving him in Arkham had happened twelve years ago for this Jim, it was more recent for Oswald. Hoping for an apology was stupid, but still, Oswald did hope. Jim didn’t seem too terribly different from his past self. Maybe a little less volatile. Had he apologized to Oswald’s future self?

                Oswald grit his teeth. Whether Jim apologized to his future self or not was irrelevant. Jim hadn’t apologized to _him,_ and that would need to be rectified. When they next met, Oswald would make sure to let Jim know how displeased he was. Maybe this Jim would be willing to listen and work things out.


	4. Best Friends Forever

                Oswald slipped through the crowd of club goers, his lips twisting in displeasure every time someone impeded his progress. The Sirens was more popular than he imagined it would be. He hoped Barbara was here somewhere, and that he hadn’t come to this place for nothing. Though it was undoubtedly a beautifully decorated club, it was a bit stifling.

                “Ozzy? Is that you?”

                Oswald, brows furrowed, looked around for the source of the voice. He relaxed when he spotted Barbara waving to him from the bar, and limped over. “Barbara, I’m very glad to see you’re here,” he greeted.

                Barbara stared at him with wide eyes, unresponsive. With a shake of her head she gathered her wits and grabbed his hand. “If we’re going to talk, we can do it in the back,” she said, leading him away from the bar.

                Oswald allowed himself to be lead through the crowd and down a narrow back hallway. Barbara opened a door near the end of the hall and he was pulled inside. The office was sleek and modern with dark woods and chrome finishes. There were a few paintings that Oswald assumed were ones Barbara herself had created. 

                “What happened?” Barbara demanded as she ushered Oswald into a seat. She offered him a drink, but he politely declined.

                “It’s a complicated story,” Oswald replied, sitting primly on the edge of the black leather chair. He explained what had taken place before arriving at the club and Barbara listened intently, not saying a word.

                “Well, you’re right. That was complicated,” Barbara remarked after Oswald had finished his recount. “So…twelve years?”

                Oswald nodded. “About that long, yes.” He smiled. “Though I must say, you look as though you haven’t aged a day, Barbara.”

                Barbara laughed. “That’s sweet, but also a complete lie. Thank you, though,” she said with a grin.

                Oswald waved his hand. “It’s not a lie at all,” he replied. “I must admit, considering some of the issues that have popped up in my time I was worried you and I would not be friends.”

                “Oh, Ozzy, you are too delightful to not have as a friend,” Barbara said, sitting beside him and lightly patting his knee. “Every friendship has its rough patches, obviously, but we’ve always worked it out with little issue.”

                Oswald relaxed and smiled. “That’s good to know. I’m glad there’s at least one friend I can always count on. I know Ed will someday betray me and Jim is…well, he’s Jim.”

                Barbara made a sound of sympathy and gave him a quick hug. “As silly as it sounds, we’re best friends forever. Promise!”

                Oswald was a little surprised but he quickly returned the hug. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all?

“So, what do you plan on doing while you wait for Jim to contact Batman? Pretend to be the Oswald from this time?” Barbara asked.

                “Luckily, most of the people that work for me won’t ask questions. At least not if they value their lives,” Oswald sniffed. “I’m tempted to explore the differences of the city, but given what happened last time…”

                “Well, you and I had plans for tomorrow anyway. I’ll just have to schedule a make-up date with the other you,” Barbara said.

                “What plans?” Oswald wasn’t sure what to make of the smile that crept across Barbara’s lips.

 

* * *

 

                “I don’t know whether I’m pleased to have agreed to this or if I’m incredibly uncomfortable,” Oswald muttered, following Barbara into the nail salon.

                “The older you enjoys this very much, so I say you should be pleased,” Barbara replied cheerily. “It’s nice to pamper yourself every now and then.”

                Oswald sighed - his nails _were_ atrocious. But that was part of the issue; he really didn’t want some snooty lady judging his nails the entire time. Or anything else about him.

                Oswald looked around the spacious lobby as Barbara spoke with the woman behind the front counter. He supposed it looked like what most fancy spas ought to look like. Potted plants in a multitude of places, shiny marble floors, soft beige walls, and comfortable chairs – it was nice and relaxing. Quiet music and the faint aroma of lilacs completed the effect.

                “Ozzy?” Barbara waved a hand in front of Oswald’s face. “Hannah is ready for us.”

                “Oh, sorry,” Oswald replied, following Barbara and another woman. They entered a smaller room where a third woman was bustling around a couple of tables. This room had powder blue walls, Oswald noted. 

                “Nikki is getting things set up. Would you like some wine while you wait?” Hannah asked.

                “Yes, of course,” Barbara said, sitting at one of the tables.

                “I suppose a glass would be nice,” Oswald agreed, sitting at the other.

                They were both brought a glass of wine and Hannah and Nikki sat at their respective tables.

                “So, what do you think of things so far?” Barbara asked Oswald. “Regarding you-know-what, I mean.”

                Oswald looked over at Barbara as he rested his hand in a bowl of lukewarm lavender oil. “It’s all very strange, though I suppose it could be worse. Do you think things have gotten better or worse? You’ve lived through all the changes, after all.”

                Barbara hummed in thought. “I’d say personally it’s been better. As a whole, though? I wouldn’t know. I’m sure Jim thinks it’s gotten worse, however.”

                “From what you’ve told us, Jim always thinks things are worse,” Hannah remarked and Nikki laughed.

                “True,” Barbara agreed, laughing as well. “Honestly, Ozzy, the fact that you still have a thing for him worries me.”

                Oswald flushed. “I can’t exactly help it, you know. Trust me, if I could ignore him my life would probably be easier.”

                “That’s probably true of most crushes,” Nikki said, getting him to put his other hand in the bowl as she rubbed an exfoliate into his right hand. “Though I suppose I can see the appeal of him. He’s got that whole Silver Fox thing going on. And who doesn’t love a man in uniform?”

                “Nikki!” Barbara gasped in mock reproach. “That mustache is awful. I don’t know why he grew it.”

                “Mmm. It makes him look much older than he is,” Hannah agreed.

                Oswald shook his head. He supposed they all knew each other well enough for this sort of talk. It would be bad to mess up his future self’s relationships. “I don’t mind it so much.”

                “Ozzy, sweetie, you don’t mind much of anything about Jim,” Barbara teased.

                Oswald could feel himself blushing yet again. He turned his eyes back to his hand where Nikki was filing his nails. “I don’t know why I put up with you, Barbara,” he huffed.

                “Because you love me,” said Barbara with a wink.

                Oswald gave a little laugh. “Of course.”

                “Oh, you know who’s really hot?” Nikki gushed. “Batman!”

                “Nikki you crush on everyone,” Hannah giggled. “But I have to admit, you’re right.”

                Barbara smirked. “That whole mysterious vigilante thing _is_ attractive.”

                Oswald rolled his eyes. “He seems ridiculous to me.”

                Nikki’s eyes widened. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Penguin. I’d forgotten that you aren’t really a fan of him,” she apologized as she massaged a cucumber scented lotion into his hands and arm.

                “It’s fine, I don’t particularly care,” Oswald replied. “I just wish I knew who thought it was a good idea to dress as a giant bat and run around the city fighting crime.”

                “Everyone has their hobbies,” Hannah said with a grin. She stood and brought Barbara a swatch of different nail polishes. “Okay, Barbara, which color?”

                Oswald snorted and sipped at his wine. He supposed that it wasn’t _that_ out of the ordinary for Gotham. It seemed as though Galavan had started some sort of costume trend. Unfortunately.

 

                When Oswald and Barbara finally left the salon, Oswald couldn’t stop staring at his hands and rubbing them together. They’d never felt so soft and nice before!

                “Didn’t I tell you that you’d enjoy it?” Barbara gloated, hooking her arm through Oswald’s even as she admired her own shiny mauve nails.

                “Yes, you did,” Oswald agreed. “I’ll remember to trust your judgment on these things when I get back to my own time.”

                “Good. Your life will be a lot more fun if you do,” Barbara laughed.

                “By the way, Barbara, I meant to ask you something important,” Oswald started, smile leaving his face.

                “Uh oh, you’re looking far too serious again,” Barbara pouted. “We should have had more wine.”

                “Barbara.”

                “Yes, alright, what did you want to ask?”

                Oswald looked down at the sidwalk. “Jim has a daughter. Do you know who the mother is?”

                Barbara was quiet. Eventually she replied, “I am.” Oswald wasn’t sure how to respond or what to ask next. But Barbara didn’t give him time to think of anything before she elaborated. “It was a mistake. Well, it was and it wasn’t. I could never regret having my daughter, of course! But I very much regret sleeping with Jim again. He regrets it as well. It was a night of bad decisions for both of us.”

                “I see. That explains why her name is Barbara as well then. I’m sure it would have been a bit odd for that to be her name if she were Thompkins’ daughter.”

                “Tch! I can only imagine the bitch-fit she would have thrown about that,” Barbara said, rolling her eyes.

                “You don’t like Thompkins then?” Oswald asked with a smirk.

                “I can’t stand her!” Barbara fumed. “She acts like she’s perfect and could never do anything wrong. She’s so…bland too! Just thinking about her makes me sick.”

                Oswald grinned. “I’m sure you’ll be glad to know I completely agree. Did I ever tell you what she pulled before I went to get my revenge on Galavan?”

                Barbara shook her head. “No, what?”

                “She was trying to get Jim to not help me. Jim was determined and so she announced she was pregnant!” Oswald said with a grimace.

                “Ah! I knew she wasn’t perfect! She’s as manipulative as everyone else,” Barbara grinned, eyes sparkling with vindictive delight. After a bit, she went quiet again. Barbara slowly met Oswald’s eyes. “You aren’t mad about this whole me and Jim having a daughter thing, are you?”

                Oswald’s eyes widened. “Of course not! It’s not as if Jim and I are a couple. Or would ever be. Besides, I’m sure you’re a wonderful mother.”

                Barbara smiled and kissed his cheek. “You’re too sweet, Ozzy.” 

 

* * *

 

                Oswald was having a serious case of Déjà vu. Yet again, he was sitting in the back seat of a car with Jim and Harvey up front as they drove through Gotham.

                “I’m surprised you haven’t retired yet, Bullock,” Oswald remarked. “Aren’t you worried you might break a hip while running after some murderer or thief?”

                “I’m not that damn old, you little shit!” Harvey snapped, glaring back over his shoulder at Oswald who smiled innocently. “I can still kick your ass, no problem.”

                “I’m sure you can,” Oswald replied condescendingly.

                “Quit it, both of you,” Jim scolded, keeping Harvey from stopping the car to make good on his threat.

                “Why the hell are we helping him, Jim? Nothing good’s ever come of it,” Harvey complained as he continued driving them through the East End.

                “Because I said so,” Jim said flatly. “Oswald, are you recognizing anything?”

                “Not yet,” Oswald replied, looking out the window. “Wait…go back! I think I saw the building!”

 

                The three of them stood outside the building Oswald had escaped from.

                “Looks like no-ones been here in a while,” Harvey said.

                “Which means it was probably a great hideout,” Jim agreed. He turned to Oswald. “Do you know which room you were in?”

                Oswald pointed up to the third story. “See that broken window by the fire escape? That’s how I got out. I’ll show you the room.” He lead them both up the fire escape and over to the broken window. Oswald was about to go in when Jim stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

                “Wait out here. Harvey and I’ll check it out,” Jim told him.

                Oswald frowned. “And just why can’t I go in?” His chin jutted out angrily. “If he’s in there I want to show him exactly why he shouldn’t cross me.”

                “That’s exactly why,” Harvey snorted, making sure the way was clear of broken glass.

                “Also, it’s our job. Just wait here,” Jim insisted.

                “Fine.” Oswald watched Jim and Harvey climb through the window and pull out their guns. They disappeared from sight and he pouted petulantly. Maybe he should have just come here with Butch and not agreed to go with Jim. Curse his inability to say no to the man!

 

                “So that was a waste of time,” Harvey grumbled as the trio headed back down the fire escape.

                “Are you sure _nothing_ was left?” Oswald asked. “Nothing at all?”

                “We’re sure,” Jim replied. “Not even a spring or a gear.”

                “But there was a machine there!” Oswald snapped.

                Jim’s brows furrowed. “I didn’t say I didn’t believe you. He probably just moved his base of operations.” He sighed. “Which means we’ll definitely need Batman’s help, now. I was sort of hoping to avoid it. Especially since I haven’t heard back, yet.”

                “Well he’d better respond soon,” Oswald said. He gave a start when Jim’s hand landed on his shoulder once again.

                “We’ll get this solved. Don’t worry,” Jim assured. Oswald blinked a few times before nodding. With Jim helping him, maybe things would turn out alright.


	5. Present Me and Future You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry this chapter took so long!! D: I've been busy and just, idk, this got put aside briefly. But fear not, intrepid readers, because I am not abandoning this fic! :P 
> 
> And I'd like to thank thekeyholder again for betaing this fic. :D

                “Sorry I’m late,” was the greeting Jim gave when he finally arrived.

                Oswald, who’d been standing in the alley behind his club irritably checking his watch, gave a huff. “Better late than never, I suppose. Are you sure this is the best place to wait?”

                Jim came to a stop just on the edge of Oswald’s personal space. “It’s your club. And it’s not like we can meet at the GCPD. Even though I’m the Commissioner, it doesn’t mean I can just let criminals wander into my office.”

                “Fair enough,” Oswald replied. He noticed Jim was looking him over and fought to keep a blush from spreading over his cheeks. Jim was likely still just unused to the fact that Oswald was not from this time.

                “I agree.”

                Oswald was sure he felt his heart leap up his throat. Based on Jim’s startled swear, he wasn’t the only one. He whirled around to see a tall figure all in black standing in the shadows.

                The man – who could only be Batman - stepped into the moonlight. “You were right, Commissioner. This isn’t the Penguin from now,” Batman said as Oswald recovered from his near heart-attack.

“Do you always have to show up like that?” Jim demanded.

                “Yes,” Batman replied simply.

                Oswald had to admit, the bat costume was a little less ridiculous in person. It _was_ still silly, but it clearly did a good job at keeping the masked man’s identity a secret. It certainly showed off the man’s muscles, however. Oswald could practically feel the bruises his future self must have gotten as a result of being Batman’s enemy.

                “…That’s what he told me, at least. So, do you agree? Do you think the Clock King’s behind this?” Jim asked, arms crossed.

                “It sounds likely,” Batman agreed. “I don’t know of anyone else who would want to mess with time like this. But I’m not sure why he’d want to bring Penguin here. They’ve never interacted before, as far as I know.”

                Oswald rolled his eyes. “Wonderful. Now that we all agree on _that_ , what are we going to do about it?”

                “I have my methods of finding criminals. Once I find the Clock King, I’ll find you. And then we’ll get you back to your time,” Batman replied, as though it were all as simple as that.

                Before Oswald could respond, Batman was gone. He turned to Jim. “Is he always like that?”

                “Unfortunately, yes,” Jim snorted. “But he’ll do as he says. All we have to do now is wait, and _you_ have to stay out of trouble.”

                Oswald arched a brow. “I’ve been good at staying out of trouble so far. You don’t need to remind me. Just because you’re old now, doesn’t mean you get to talk to me like a child.”

                Jim sputtered a bit. “I’m not old! Well, not _that_ old.”

                “Mhmm,” Oswald hummed skeptically. He sighed, then, and looked around. “I think we ought to go elsewhere. I need to talk to you about something…important.”

                Jim rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh? Uh…We can go to my place. Barbara is with her mom again tonight,” he suggested.

                “Alright,” Oswald agreed with a nod. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

“So…what was it you wanted to talk about?” Jim asked as Oswald sat on the sofa and he in the armchair.

                Oswald had felt a little more confident earlier, now though, he wasn’t quite sure. “Jim, I…How are we still friends? I mean, I know you never considered me one, but you’ve been a lot kinder to me than you used to be.”

                Jim stared at him.

                “Did you and my future self ever even talk about Arkham?” Oswald asked, leaning forward.

                Jim closed his eyes and sighed. “I see. I should have known that was what was on your mind.”

                “So?”

                “We never really talked about it, no,” Jim replied, resting his arms on his legs. “I’ve tried to make up for it. In little ways, but…For example, I’ve tried to make sure you get sent to Blackgate instead of Arkham when you get caught. I don’t know how much of an improvement, if any, it is but I figured you’d prefer it over being back in that place. Besides, you aren’t insane so you don’t belong in Arkham.”

                Oswald remained silent. What Jim said fit in with what his future self had written in his records. Oswald couldn’t exactly say he was surprised his future self had more or less forgiven Jim. Honestly, he had as well – even if it was not in his best interest.

                “I regret not making an attempt to actually apologize, Oswald,” Jim said, interrupting Oswald’s thoughts.

                “What?” Oswald gaped. “You…you do?”

                Jim looked him in the eye. “I know I seem like an uncaring ass, especially back then, but I did – do – feel guilty about not believing you. I should have made more of an effort to at least apologize for what I did, but I didn’t.”

                Oswald was stunned. “Jim…What happened to you? You’ve changed. For the better I think, though.”

                Jim snorted. “I finally grew up, is what happened. And…”

                “And?” Oswald asked, leaning forward in interest.

                “Let’s just say certain events led me to think about my life and my choices. One of those things was my daughter, of course.” Jim frowned at the floor. “I still don’t like talking about all this, but I figured I owed you something,” he grunted.

                Oswald smiled and gave a little laugh. Jim may have softened a bit, but he was still Jim. “And would you consider us friends now?”

                Jim grimaced. “We don’t hate each other.”

                “Oh,” Oswald sighed. He sat back and looked down at his hands.

                “Oswald, you’re a criminal. Maybe not as bad as some of the others running around, but you still kill people. And I’m the Commissioner. I can’t call us friends.”

                “I can. Even before you were Commissioner. You do realize it’s more dangerous for me to consider you a friend than for you to, don’t you?” Oswald pointed out, looking at Jim again. “I can look past our jobs, Jim. You could too.”

                Jim refused to return his gaze. “That sounds like something…” he muttered. Jim shook his head and rubbed his temples. “It’s not that simple.”

                “But it is,” Oswald protested, standing.

                “I don’t want to fight about this,” Jim growled, standing as well. “You don’t know what’s happened between your time and this time. It’s complicated.”

                Oswald stepped closer. “You could just explain, then. Why is it you can’t ignore your job, even a little? Am I really so intolerable?” he asked, trying to ignore how desperate he sounded even to his own ears. It was also now noticeable just how close they were standing.

                Jim sighed. “No. You aren’t intolerable,” he admitted, eyes locking with Oswald’s. He licked his lips.

                Oswald blushed and blinked a few times. He couldn’t help but smile, though, despite his embarrassment. “You have no idea how I’m happy to hear that, Jim.”

                Jim seemed to recover from whatever had made him stare and he stepped back. “Look, the way things went…I can’t explain it because I don’t know what will happen when you get back to your time. If I tell you everything, I don’t know what would change. For better or worse.”

                Oswald closed his eyes for a moment. “I understand. But isn’t there anything you could tell me? Anything at all?” he asked.

                “There’s nothing to tell, alright?” Jim snapped. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a breath. “I’ve helped you a little when I can. And you’ve helped the GCPD sometimes. But that’s it. I don’t know if the you from this time still considers us friends - I don’t know why he would. We’ve only talked, if you can even call it that, while you’re being arrested or when you’re making deals with the GCPD and Batman.”

                Oswald wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Their friendship (as one-sided as it was) had deteriorated even further. “I…I see,” was all he could think of to say. After a moment he lifted his head, jaw tense. “You should know something.”

                Jim’s brows rose. “What?”

                “My future self still considers you a friend,” Oswald confessed.

                “How do you know that?” Jim asked with a frown.

                “Because I do,” Oswald replied. Jim didn’t need to know about the files he kept on everyone.  He gave a sad half-smile. “It appears I don’t give up easily.” He was shocked when Jim approached him and seazed him by the shoulders.

                “Why? Why are you so insistent?” Jim demanded, practically shaking Oswald. “You should have given up years ago! ...I don’t understand you.”

                Oswald curled in on himself as best he could with Jim still gripping his shoulders. “If I told you, then you _would_ hate me,” he quavered. Oswald had to blink away the tears that threatened to appear. He hated how easy it was for his emotions to get the better of him.

                “Oswald, if the things you’ve done so far haven’t made me hate you…” Jim trailed off, a strange look in his eye.

                Oswald hesitated. He supposed this was a good opportunity to tell Jim how he felt. If Jim took it badly at least Oswald would know for sure his feelings were unrequited, with his Jim being none the wiser.  He looked Jim in the eye and steeled himself for the inevitable rejection. “Jim, I’m in love with you.”

                There was a moment of silence. Jim’s hands dropped from Oswald’s shoulders.

                “Of course I know you’d never feel the same, Jim. I never thought you would, and I meant it every time I said I wanted your friendship. Your friendship is just as valuable to me and I would have been perfectly happy with that,” Oswald babbled, hands up as he backed away.

                “Oswald.”

                “And I’m sure you’re disgusted. I’ll go immediately and I apologize -”

                “Oswald.”

                “I won’t bother you anymore, Jim. I -”

                “Oswald!”

                Oswald flinched and shut up.

                Jim placed a hand on Oswald’s arm. “Don’t put words in my mouth. Did I say I was disgusted?”

                Oswald shook his head. “But surely -”

                “I’m not. I’m not disgusted,” Jim said firmly.

                “You’re not?” Oswald asked, his voice nearly a squeak.

                “I was just surprised. I still don’t understand how you could have any feelings for me - of any kind.”

                Oswald looked down at the hand still on his arm, then back up at Jim. “Has anyone ever said love was logical?” he asked with a small quirk of the lips.

                Jim gave a strained chuckle. “I guess not.” He rubbed his thumb over Oswald’s arm. “….It does explain a lot, though.”

                Oswald blushed even as he shifted back into Jim’s personal space. “Oh?”

                But Jim didn’t elaborate. “Do you think your future self still feels that way?” he asked, voice tight.

                Oswald nodded. “I know he does,” he replied. “Does that bother you?”

                “…No.” Jim’s other hand moved to rest on Oswald’s hip, causing the smaller man to twitch in surprise.  “It doesn’t bother me at all.”

                “Are you sure?” Oswald murmured, his own hands rising to Jim’s chest. He was shocked when Jim leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Jim?”

                “Maybe I’ve liked you for a while now, too,” Jim muttered, breath warm against Oswald’s ear.

                Before Oswald could respond, the sound of the front door being pushed open caused them to jump apart.

                “Daddy!” a little blonde girl squealed, rushing straight to Jim.

                “Sorry, Jim, Barb was insistent about seeing you,” Barbara said, briefly glancing at Oswald with an apologetic smile.

                Jim picked his daughter up. “It’s fine,” he told Barbara, before looking down at the little girl. “You really missed me that much? You were just here this morning.”

                Little Barbara nodded. “Yes!” she exclaimed. Her eyes landed on Oswald and widened. “Who’s that?”

                “One of mommy and daddy’s friends. Oswald,” Barbara explained with a smile.

                “Hi!” Little Barbara said, waving at Oswald.

                “Uh, hello,” Oswald replied awkwardly. “I…I should get going.”

                “Oh, right.” Jim set Barbara down on the floor. “Do you need me to call a cab?”

                “No, I’m fine. Good night, Jim. Barbara.”

                

* * *

 

                By the time Oswald had arrived back home and settled into bed, his mind had caught up with everything that had happened. Jim had kissed him. Kissed him! Oswald could hardly believe it! He giggled gleefully to himself. That meant there was a possibility the Jim from his own time would return Oswald’s affections. He would have asked had Barbara and Jim’s daughter not shown up.

                Jim’s daughter.

                The smile that had blossomed across Oswald’s face fell. Jim had a daughter! Which meant he couldn’t tell the Jim from his time his feelings. If Jim returned them, then he’d never have his daughter. Oswald’s heart shattered and there was no holding back the tears this time.

                It didn’t matter if Jim liked Oswald back; he couldn’t tell Jim his feelings. As always, even when things went right for Oswald, they inevitably backfired.  


	6. Do Me a Favor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I must apologize for taking so long to update this. D: Now that I've gotten past the particular hurdle that was this chapter, the updates should come out a little more quickly. If all goes well...Anyway, please enjoy this newest chapter. :)

                Oswald wished he could properly enjoy the fact that Jim was being so sweet to him. As he sat across from Jim at the small, round dining table, it was all he could do to keep the smile on his face.  “Thank you for inviting me to dinner, Jim.”

                “You don’t have to thank me. I figured I could treat you to a somewhat proper date before you return to your time,” Jim replied with a smile of his own. “I’d have taken you out to dinner, but…”

                “No need to explain. I’m perfectly happy with this,” Oswald assured him, taking a bite of the creamy rigatoni. “And, no offense, but I had no idea you could cook.”

                That got a bark of a laugh from Jim. “Sorry, but I didn’t cook this. But I’m glad you like it anyway,” he said. “You’d probably be sick if you ate anything I tried to make.”

                Oswald giggled and shook his head. “I’ll have to remedy that, then, when I go back.” His smile faltered. He had forgotten for a moment that he couldn’t be with Jim after all. Quickly fixing his momentary slip up, Oswald grinned. “But I suppose if it’s truly hopeless, I wouldn’t mind cooking.”

                “Don’t tempt me to purposely never learn,” Jim said with a shake of his head.

 

                After dinner, Oswald joined Jim on the couch to watch a movie – the title of which Oswald hadn’t paid much attention to. As much as he knew he shouldn’t get too attached, he couldn’t help but curl into Jim’s side and rest his head on Jim’s shoulder.

                “Comfortable?” Jim asked, lips twitching into a grin.

                Oswald blushed. “Is this not okay?” He started to sit back up, but Jim stopped him.

                “It’s fine,” Jim told him, settling his arm around Oswald’s waist. “I was genuinely asking.”

                “Oh,” Oswald muttered. He tried to calm down and relax, but it was difficult. Still he said, “Yes. I’m very comfortable.”

                Oswald really didn’t watch the movie. Despite his best attempts, his mind kept wandering back to the fact that he shouldn’t allow this. The affection from Jim would only cause Oswald more pain later, he shouldn’t have ever confessed. Not knowing how Jim felt was horribly better than knowing. Ignorance is bliss after all.

                “Oswald?” Jim’s voice broke through Oswald’s melancholy thoughts.

                “Yes, Jim?” Oswald replied, looking up.

                “Something’s bothering you,” Jim said. It wasn’t a question.

                Oswald’s heart skips a beat. He bites his lip. “W-what makes you say that?”

                Jim sighed. “You’re quiet. Also you’re hands are shaking a little,” he pointed out.

                “I’m perfectly fine,” Oswald assured a little too quickly, smiling.

                “No, you aren’t. What’s upsetting you?” Jim insisted with a concerned frown, pausing the movie and shifting so he could see Oswald properly.

                Oswald looked away. “Knowing how you feel about me…I just wish I could confess to the you from my time,” he said softly, wringing his hands.

                “And why can’t you? If you think it’s because past me would reject you…Well I’m sure I’d protest a bit at first but I’d eventually come around,” Jim said with a reassuring smile.

                Oswald shook his head. “That’s not it.”

                “Then what?”

                “I can’t….I can’t tell past you about my feelings because what if you accept them?” Oswald’s breath hitched and his voice cracked. “You’d never have your daughter. I couldn’t do that to you, Jim.”

                Jim seemed unable to respond, his eyes wide. Slowly he leaned forward against his knees, stroking a hand over his mustache. “…I hadn’t even considered that.” After a moment he looked at Oswald. "I'm surprised you did, though.”

                Oswald looked at him with a frown. “What do you mean?”

                “Well, it’s just that you never really struck me as the selfless type,” Jim said awkwardly.

                “Excuse me?” Oswald exclaimed, standing. Hurt and anger turned his cheeks red, his hands clenched at his sides. “I’ve always been selfless when it comes to you, James Gordon! Or have you conveniently forgotten all those favors I did for you? Or how I went to Arkham for you?”

                “Whoa! I’m sorry, Oswald. I didn’t mean it like that,” Jim reassured, standing as well. “I just meant…I figured that you always went after what you wanted, no matter what. That’s all.”

                Oswald calmed a bit as Jim enveloped him in a hug. “Usually you’d be right, Jim. But when it comes to you…” he trailed off, his head dropping to Jim’s shoulder.

                “Oswald…”

                A kiss was pressed to the top of Oswald’s head, causing him to look up. “But, I suppose it doesn’t have to be all bad. I’ve always been patient for the things that matter most.” He bit his lower lip for a moment, considering his next words. “Will you promise me something?”

                Jim frowned slightly. “What?”

                “Will you confess to future me? If you two can be together, well, it would make the wait a little more bearable,” Oswald requested, giving a sad little smile.

                Jim sighed, his eyes closing for a moment. “Yeah. I can do that,” he replied, smiling back.

                Oswald leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

                “You look like something the cat dragged in.”

                Oswald looked up to see Catwoman settling onto a bar stool beside him. The Iceberg Lounge was closed for the night and he had been avoiding going home. “Thank you for that helpful observation,” Oswald drawled, rolling his eyes.

                Selina smirked. “Welcome. So, you any closer to finding a way back?” she asked, rapping her claws against the bar top. “Or are you planning on wasting all your time moping around because of Jim?”

                Oswald nearly spat out his drink. “What? How do you – Never mind,” he sighed. Selina snickered at him. “I have made _some_ progress.”

                “Yeah, I saw you and Batman having a little chat,” Selina said.

                “Then wh -”

                “Well, it looks like fortune is smiling upon me today!”

                Oswald and Selina both turned, equally shocked by the interruption. Oswald quickly recognized the man from his folders and the gas balloon - Joker.

                “Hehehe…I think I see a puddy tat. And a little Tweety Bird, too,” the man cackled, strolling up to the bar. Just as in the pictures, his red lips were stretched wide in an unnatural smile across his white face.

                “What are _you_ doing here?” Selina demanded, her entire body stiff and ready to attack. “I thought you had run from Gotham after pulling that little stunt of yours.”

                “Am I not welcome?” Joker asked with a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “Whatever will I do with this invitation?” He whipped out a card from his breast pocket.

                Oswald frowned. “I didn’t send out an invitation,” he said, leaning closer to inspect the card.

                Joker flipped it open and water sprayed Oswald in the face. “Oops! AHAHAHAHAHA!”

                “I do not appreciate such jokes!” Oswald sputtered indignantly as he wiped his face.

                “Oh come on, that was a good one and you know it,” Joker chuckled, tossing the card. “Now, about why I decided to visit this frozen tundra of yours. I heard you two were planning a little something-something.”

                “The plans have changed,” Selina huffed, standing.

Oswald glanced at her with a confused frown. What had they been planning?

                “Now, now, don’t be like that,” Joker said, slinging an arm around both their shoulders and forcing Selina to sit back down. “I have a fun proposition for you.”

                “Not interested,” Oswald retorted curtly.

                Joker’s eyes narrowed. “I think you should listen to what I have to say, Penguin. Or you might regret it later,” he growled, holding a playing card with very sharp edges against Oswald’s neck.

                “Fine, then! What do you want?” Selina conceded, her lip curled in disgust.

                Joker grinned. “I’m so glad you see it my way. It’s all very simple, really,” he replied. “You two just need to steal that pretty little jewel that was just brought to Gotham. Once I’m done with it, you two can have it. Or do whatever it is you were planning on doing with it. It’s a win-win situation!”

                “That’s your plan?” Oswald asked, arching an eyebrow.

                “Of course that’s not all of it,” Joker said, shaking his head. “Oh, my plans for the jewel are my own. Nothing you need to worry about. But as for getting said jewel…That’s why I need you two. The brains and the cat burglar - since I suppose Pengy here doesn’t do the dirty work himself.”

                Oswald glared at him. Not only was the man infuriating, there was something familiar about him. But why?

                “So, let’s go! We can discuss the details on the way,” Joker said, practically dragging the two from the bar. Once they were stuffed into the purple Lamborghini outside, he looked Oswald over. “You’re looking a little thin there, Penguin. Stress getting to ya? Maybe you could use a good laugh!”

 

                Oswald stood in the security room of the Gotham Museum of Art, watching Selina move through the rooms towards their goal. The two guards that had been in the room were on the floor, unconscious. They worked surprisingly well together. He gave her heads up on the security measures and she would use her acrobatic skills to get past them.

                “Nice job. I should have hired you years ago,” Joker smirked, leaning against a wall.

                “I don’t work _for_ you, and I never will. This is just convenient,” Oswald replied, giving him the briefest of glances. The creepy clown factor had worn off some time ago, now the other man was just aggravating.

                Joker shrugged. “Semantics. I have some friends waiting outside, I think I’ll let them know their services will be needed soon,” he said, heading for the door.

                Oswald didn’t bother responding; however, he frowned at the laughter that echoed down the halls as Joker left the room. He looked away from the monitors and stared at the door for a moment. Something seemed…off.

                “I’ve almost got the jewel. Do you think you could turn off the lasers around the case?” Selina asked, the audio crackling through the communication devices Joker had loaned them.

                “I’ll try. There are a lot of buttons here,” Oswald replied, eyes roaming over the multitude of buttons and switches. He was about to press one when something on one of the monitors caught his eye. Oswald frowned and peered at the screens, waiting for whatever it was to show up again.

                A black blur swept past one of the cameras – too fast for Oswald to make out what it was. “Selina, be careful! I think someone else is here,” he warned. “Joker said he’d get some of his men in here, but I don’t think that was them.”

                There was no response. Oswald quickly flipped through the video feeds until he found the room Selina was in. Only now she wasn’t alone. The door to the security room slammed open.

                “GCPD, put your hands up!”

                “Oswald?”

                Oswald turned from the cameras, where he had seen Batman swoop in and tackle Selina away from the case. Jim and Harvey stood in the doorway, looking shocked. “I can explain!” Oswald pleaded, holding his hands up in surrender.

                “Yeah, sure, explain how you’re a lying little shit like always,” Harvey snapped, grabbing Oswald and cuffing his hands behind his back.

                “No! There’s a very good explanation for all of this! Please hear me out,” Oswald begged as he was dragged out of the security room.

                “Harv, I think we should let him explain,” Jim said, his tone wary. “He’s not the Oswald from this time.”

                “Why does that matter? Besides, why should we even believe _that_?” Harvey retorted.

                Oswald shook his head. “I’m not lying! S- Catwoman and I were dragged into this by Joker,” he said. “We didn’t have a choice since he caught us by surprise!”

                “And what were you and Catwoman doing hanging out together?” asked a deep, angry voice from up ahead.

                Oswald looked up to see Batman storming over, cape billowing out behind him. “She was keeping an eye out on me to make sure I wasn’t killed! She knows I’m not from this time. Where is she? She’ll confirm what I’m telling you!”

                “She escaped,” Batman growled. “So you’ll have to prove your story to the judge.”

                Oswald gaped at him before whipping his head around to look at Jim. “ _Jim!_ Jim, please believe me! I’m not a thief and you know it!” he pleaded.

                Jim stared at him for a moment, a strange look on his face. After a moment he said, “I do believe you. Harvey, Batman, I think he’s telling the truth.”

                “Even if he is, he still committed a crime, Jim,” Harvey argued, jostling Oswald to get him moving again.

                “This situation is different than usual. He’s not from this time so –”

                “Stop,” Batman ordered them. “Something fell from his pocket.” The three watched as he went past them and picked something up off the ground. A Joker card.  “’Thanks for the distraction, bird boy – Joker’.”

                Harvey groaned and un-cuffed Oswald. “Well I guess that settles that,” he muttered, clearly unhappy with the situation.

                Oswald rubbed his wrists and shot a glare at Harvey. “As if I would make up something as far-fetched as time traveling,” he sniffed haughtily.

                “What now? We weren’t expecting Joker to pull off any other stunts so soon after he got away,” Jim said.

                “I’ve almost narrowed down where The Clock King is hiding out. We might have a few days before Joker’s plan is put into action, so I’ll see if we can send Penguin back to his time first. It would cause problems if he kept getting pulled into these situations,” Batman explained. “I’ll be in contact soon.”

                Then he was gone.  


	7. Back In Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> I took longer than I thought I would with this.
> 
> I'm so sorry. But hopefully the fact it's longer than usual will make up for that. ^_^
> 
> But many thank yous to my wonderful beta and friend, thekyeholder!

              

 

                Oswald hated awkward silences. This one even more so. He glanced at Jim and then went back to looking out the car window.

                “We’re almost there,” Jim announced as they sped along the darker streets on the outskirts of Gotham.

                Oswald nodded, unsure of how else to respond.

                Jim sighed. “I, uh, I know it’ll be hard, Oswald. But it can be easier if you don’t think about it too much.”

                “That’s how you deal with things, Jim, by not thinking about them. _I_ have a bad habit of overthinking, however,” Oswald replied, finally looking at Jim. His breath hitched when Jim’s hand reached over and grabbed his own.

                “I wish I knew what to say to make you feel better.” Jim looked at Oswald out of the corner of his eye. He gave a half smile. “Guess that’s one thing that hasn’t changed. I’m still really bad with words.”

                Oswald couldn’t help but laugh quietly. “I appreciate the attempt, though.”

                After another bout of silence, Jim spoke again. “I was thinking…”

                “That’s rather dangerous,” Oswald remarked playfully.

                Jim rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lips tugged up in a smile. “I was thinking, if you decided to tell past me about this whole time travel thing, you should have proof.”

                Oswald tilted his head. “And what would that proof be?”

 

                The car pulled to a stop outside a closed store a few blocks down the street from an old factory.

                “I’m assuming the factory is our destination?” Oswald asked. His question was answered by a knock at the driver’s side window, causing him to yelp in a very undignified manner.

                “I’d say so,” Jim remarked, clearly trying not to laugh as they got out of the car.

                “Follow me,” is all the greeting they get from Batman. Oswald and Jim followed him down a few alleys until they were as close to the factory as they could get without being in plain sight. “Penguin, you’re to stay here. Commissioner Gordon and I will go in and deal with the Clock King. Once he’s been apprehended, the Commissioner will come and get you.”

                “And just why can’t I come with you? I’m perfectly capable of handling myself,” Oswald huffed, crossing his arms.

                “Yes, you are. But there’s always a chance that something could go wrong. I’d rather we not take any chances,” Batman said flatly.

                Jim placed a hand on Oswald’s shoulder. “I have to agree with Batman. Just wait here. It shouldn’t take too long, okay?”

                Oswald sighed. “Fine, just be quick about it,” he relented. The two stepped aside to discuss the plan and Oswald glared at the factory across the way. Yes it was probably best to just stay put and let them handle the situation – after all they knew more about the Clock King than he did. Still, he was tired of sitting around and waiting for others to get this mess sorted out.

                The silence was what brought Oswald out of his own thoughts. Looking around, he spotted Jim making his way towards the factory, ducking behind cars and rubble to keep out of sight. A dark shape swooping across the sky caught Oswald’s attention. It took a moment, but he quickly realized it was Batman. “So the outfit _does_ have a practical purpose.”

                Once he was sure both Batman and Jim were inside the factory, Oswald set out himself. As if he would just sit idly by! No, this was his problem and he was going to help fix it. At the very least he was going to watch the so called Clock King get beat up. He deserved that much.

                When Oswald finally made it into the building he paused and listened. For many minutes it was silent. A muffled shout came from above, followed by dust falling from the ceiling. Oswald smirked and limped through the large empty room towards the back stairs. It seemed as though he had made it in time.

                Oswald reached the top of the stairs as quietly as he could. Beyond the door he heard shouting and the general sounds that seemed to accompany fights. Cautiously, he opened the door a crack and peered inside.

                A man was flung across the room and smashed into the wall. Batman followed and picked him up by the scruff of his neck.

                “Darn this leg. I missed all the fun,” Oswald pouted, making his entrance.

                “Oswald! We told you to stay in the alley,” Jim snapped, keeping his gun trained on the person Oswald assumed was the Clock King.

                Oswald arched an eyebrow. “Jim, did you honestly think I would sit back and wait? Besides, you have him so there’s no point in arguing.”

                “Enough. Clock King, tell us what this was all about,” Batman growled, making the man in his grasp flinch.

                “Yes, yes, fine! Just put me down,” the Clock King demanded, struggling.

                “No, you’ll answer now,” Batman said.

                Oswald limped over. “Yes, I’d like to know just what you thought you’d accomplish by messing with me,” he snarled.

                The Clock King sighed. “Very well. If you must know, I was hoping to kill off the young Batman – thereby getting rid of this one.”

                “But you don’t know his identity, how would going back in time do anything?” Jim asked, frowning.

                The Clock King gave a derisive sniff. “That was going to be part one of my plan. Get someone from the past who might know his identity. Penguin was the one most likely to know – he’s been around long enough and he’s nosey.”

                “Nosey!” Oswald huffed indignantly.

                “I did consider the commissioner as well, but I figured Penguin would be easier to apprehend. Once I had the information I was going to send a henchman back to do the deed.” The Clock King smirked. “They’re expendable after all.”

                “You’re plan would have failed anyway. I have no idea who Batman is,” Oswald said with a shake of his head.

                Batman dropped the Clock King to the ground. “And now you’ll send him back, and return the other Penguin,”            he ordered. “Don’t even think of trying to pull any tricks.”

                Glaring, the Clock King got to his feet and approached the time machine in the back of the room. It looked like it had changed a bit since Oswald had last seen it – for instance it now had three tubes instead of the just the two.

                “Just so you’re aware, I can’t exactly promise this will work. Getting this younger Penguin here was my first human attempt. The original might come back, or he might not,” the Clock King said, setting up the machine. “And if they do return to their original times, they may be permanently traumatized.”

                Oswald blanched. “Maybe he should do some more tests then. Just to be safe?”

                “I don’t like the uncertainty either,” Jim agreed, moving to stand beside Oswald. They exchanged a quick glance, Oswald smiling at Jim’s concern.

                “We don’t have time for that,” Batman retorted. After a second he added, “As much as I would like to ensure your safety. The longer we wait, the more likely something could go wrong.”

                “So are we doing this or not?” The Clock King asked, opening the first tube impatiently.

                Oswald took a deep breath. This would either work, or end horribly – but he didn’t have much of a choice. “Yes. Let’s get this over with.” Oswald stepped into the tube and heard it shut as he turned around.

                “When are you sending him to?” Jim demanded, stomping over to the machine.

                “To the exact date and time I got him from. The chances of it working right otherwise…Well, if it does work, it’ll be as if he never left.”

                Oswald tried to keep a brave face; however, based on the look Jim was giving him, he was failing miserably. He gave a weak smile and looked away.

                “Alright, here we go,” the Clock King said, throwing the final switch.

                Oswald felt a strange pulling sensation on his body. A tap on the glass had him looking up at Jim.

                “Oswald. Everything’s going to be okay, I -”

                Oswald never got to hear the rest of Jim’s assurance, because in a flash of blinding light everything disappeared.

 

* * *

 

                Time travel sucked. Oswald swayed on his feet, feeling as if the ground had just rushed up to meet him. Fighting back a wave of nausea, he looked around.

                At first, Oswald worried it hadn’t worked. He was still in the factory! But a second look told him that it must have. He _was_ still in the factory, however there were machines used for the production of whatever they made lined up neatly throughout the room. It looked like the factory was definitely still in use, but the fact that the lights were off meant that – luckily – the building was empty for the night.

               

                When Oswald had woken the following morning in his bed at home, he almost wondered if the whole thing had been a dream. Gotham seemed the same as it had been before he’d gone to the future; no evil clowns or men dressed as bats, the manor was free of birds, and Gabe had answered when he’d called.

                Months passed. At first, Oswald tried to forget his feelings for Jim. But that of course didn’t work. He should have known that he’d always love Jim, no matter how painful it was.

                Oswald wanted to contact Jim, but he stopped himself every time he went to call. What would he even say? Could he really tell Jim that he’d been to the future? And that that future was very, very weird? Jim would send him straight back to Arkham for sure. Yes, he might be able to convince him with what future Jim had said, but then what?

                Oswald was spared the trouble of deciding when, on his way back from a meeting, he ran into Jim on the sidewalk. Literally. “Jim! I’m very sorry.”

                “No, no. It was my fault. Wasn’t paying attention,” Jim replied, quickly snatching away the arm he had thrown out to keep Oswald from falling.

                “It’s quite alright,” Oswald said, unable to keep from smiling. It was good to see his Jim again, grumpy as he was. Though now he had to talk to Jim. Oswald had told himself he would if he saw him because he sure as hell wasn’t going to call. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to contact you. Can we talk, Jim?”

                Jim eyed him warily. “About what?”

                Oswald huffed. “I’ll explain when we’re somewhere more suitable. It’s not exactly something I’d like to discuss out here on the sidewalk,” he replied.

                It took a moment before Jim responded. He frowned a bit, looked around, sighed, and turned. "Fine. My place isn’t too far, we can talk there.”

 

                Oswald was half expecting Jim’s home to be the same one he had from the future. And though it wasn’t the most beautiful - or even cleanliest – it was decent enough.  “You have a nice place,” Oswald commented.

                Jim gave a grunt. “It’s somewhere to sleep anyway. Now what did you want to talk about?”

                It had taken quite a bit of arguing with himself, but Oswald had eventually decided to just tell Jim everything. Then Jim could figure out what he wanted to do. “What I’m going to tell you will sound crazy.”

                “The dead coming back to life was crazy,” Jim snorted. “Just get on with it.”

                Oswald leaned against the kitchen counter and he tapped his fingers a few times. “To put it bluntly, I was in the future – twelve years into the future. For a short while, anyway.”

                “Excuse me?”

                “I said it sounded crazy, but it’s the truth,” Oswald snapped. He sighed. “It was a very confusing week. Some freak from the future calling himself the Clock King messed with time and I ended up caught in the middle of it.”

                Jim raised a brow. “And just how did you manage to get back to this time? Assuming this is real and not some weird hallucination or dream you had?”

                Oswald pursed his lips. “It was real. And I got back because you helped me. Well, future you.”

                “Really?” Jim folded his arms across his chest.

                “Yes really. I must say, Commissioner Gordon has a nice ring to it, don’t you?” Oswald replied with a smirk.

                Jim blinked. “Commissioner? Why would I become the Commissioner?”

                “I don’t know. No-one would tell me more than absolutely necessary. If I knew too much and then got back here, who knows what sort of paradox it could have caused,” Oswald explained.

                “That…How can you expect me to believe this? Why would you even _want_ to tell me this?” Jim demanded, crowding Oswald who couldn’t fight off the blush the rose to his cheeks.

                “Jervis Tetch caused you to hallucinate. He used that powder – the Red Queen?” Oswald blurted.

                Jim stared.

                “Barbara led you through your subconscious. At first you were in the GCPD, but it looked like a war zone. There was an explosion, and I was there. I believe I told you “Never leave your unit behind”? And then you saw Ms. Thompkins, and finally your father. Am I wrong?” Oswald said, looking Jim directly in the eye.

                “….How do you know all that?” Jim asked, eyes wide. “I didn’t tell anyone about that. No-one.”

                Oswald gave a half smile. “You told me. The future you said that I should tell you that – if you didn’t believe me at first.”

                Jim passed a hand over his mouth and turned away. He paced, looking conflicted and shaking his head. Running his fingers through his own hair, messing it up more than the wind outside had, he glanced a few times at Oswald. “You didn’t say why you’re telling me this. Wouldn’t it be better for you to keep it a secret? For use later?”

                “Do you really think I would do something like that? To _you_?” Oswald retorted. “Maybe I’ll use what I know against others – not there’s really much of anything _to_ use – but I wouldn’t do that to you.”

                Jim sighed. “So?”

                Oswald approached him cautiously. “You always seem so conflicted, Jim. I wanted to tell you this, because I want you to know that you in the future? You’re still a good man. You help keep the city from falling into complete chaos.”

                “How can you say that?” Jim demanded, grimacing. “After everything that’s happened? How can you still think I’m good? Maybe I’m not evil, but I’m not a hero either.”

                Oswald shook his head. “You’re motivations are good; you _want_ to do the right thing.” He bit his lip and gently touched Jim’s arm. Oswald looked up at him and said,                 “And maybe you aren’t Gotham’s hero. But you _are_ my hero. My knight in – slightly dented – armor, if you will.”

                Jim stared at him a moment. His lips twitched. And then he laughed. “Knight in slightly dented armor?” he chuckled. “That…sounds about right.”

                Oswald was quite sure his face was scarlet, but he grinned. He’d missed Jim’s laugh and smiles. “It’s true.”

                Jim quieted, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “You, uh, said I’m your hero?”

                “Because you are,” Oswald insisted. “But I don’t worship you. I know you have your flaws, just as I do. Though yours are far more forgivable.” He looked away, barely smiling. “I didn’t tell you about all of this just to make you feel better though.”

                “Why else then?” Jim asked.

                Oswald ducked his head, staring at the floor tiles. “Because I don’t know what else to do,” he murmured. Oswald took a deep breath, wondering how best to go about telling Jim. No matter how many times he phrased it in his head, it sounded wrong.  “I wanted to keep silent about this. I know I should keep it a secret, but I’ve never been particularly good at being completely selfless,” Oswald started. He sighed and looked up at Jim. “Maybe it’s been obvious, or not, but I love you, Jim. I need you to know that.”

                Jim was completely still. He didn’t even blink. “You love me.”

                Oswald nodded.

                “Yes.”

                Silence. Oswald and Jim stared at one another. The air felt thick, cloying, and Oswald wanted to flee but he stayed frozen to the spot.

                Jim kissed him. Surprise and relief flooded Oswald’s body and he gripped the lapels of Jim’s jacket to keep himself steady. Jim was kissing him. He felt his back being pressed against the counter top, even as Jim’s hands found purchase on his hips. Jim was kissing him!

                Oswald pulled his head back, his hands flattening against Jim’s chest. “Stop! Stop…”

                 Jim froze. “Oswald?”

                “I’m sorry,” Oswald sniffed. He closed his eyes briefly. “I shouldn’t…There’s…more to what I needed to tell you.”

                “What?” Jim asked, brows furrowed.

                Oswald tilted his head back, breathing in. “In the future you have a daughter. You and Barbara.” He looked back at Jim, trying to hold back the tears that wanted to fall. “Barbara told me it was an accident. A drunken fling that both of you regretted. But you were both happy to have your daughter.”

                Jim seemed stunned. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out.

                “I know there’s no choice, Jim. I just…I had to tell you my feelings, even if it’s selfish. But I know you, and I won’t make you choose.” Oswald pushed past Jim and headed for the door. He almost told Jim he loved him again. Oswald wanted to stay, find out what Jim would say. But he also didn’t. It’d be even harder that way.

                So Oswald left.


	8. Epilogue

                “Uncle Ozzie, Uncle Ozzie!”

                Oswald managed to get supper in the oven just in time to turn and catch the little girl that had barreled into the kitchen. “Barbara, you’re here early,” he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he grinned.

                “Dad had to leave early, so Uncle Jim came and got me,” Barbara Gordon replied, hugging Oswald’s waist.

                Oswald returned the hug. “Well that works out wonderfully, then. That means we get to have you around even longer.”

                “Can we go visit your birds this time?” Barbara asked, blue eyes wide and hopeful.

Oswald patted her head. “Certainly.” He led a giggling Barbara out of the kitchen and into the living room.

                “I would’ve called to let you know, but I didn’t get the chance,” Jim said, kissing Oswald’s cheek. “Barbara, why don’t you bring your bags up to your room?”

                “Okay!”

                “It’s not a problem at all, Jim,” Oswald replied, laughing a little at the tickle of Jim’s mustache. “I was just hoping to surprise you both with supper. Oh well.”

               

                It had taken some time, but Jim had surprised Oswald by choosing to be with him.

                “Not ever being born isn’t the same as killing someone, right?” Jim had replied, when Oswald had asked why Jim had chosen him over a potential future daughter. “Besides, since you told me about it, what are the chances I’d allow Barbara and me to get drunk enough for that?”

                Over the years, Oswald continuously worried over Jim’s decision. Even though he and Jim were (mostly) very happy together, he couldn’t help wonder if Jim would have been happier still with his daughter.

                Oswald’s worries were swept away when, four years later, Jim announced that his brother had a child – a girl that had been named Barbara.

 

                “You look distracted,” Jim commented after supper, curling an arm around Oswald. “Everything okay?”

                Barbara had fallen asleep during the movie they’d put on, and was now draped across both their laps. Oswald shook his head and leaned into Jim’s side. “Everything’s perfect, Jim. I love you.”

                Jim pressed a gentle kiss to Oswald’s lips. “I love you too, Oswald.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is, folks! The end! I hope everyone enjoyed it. :)
> 
> Of course, I must give a final thank you to my friend and beta, thekeyholder! Thank you! ^_^


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